


Sunrise

by chshrkitten



Category: Places No One Knows - Brenna Yovanoff
Genre: F/F, Femslash February 2019, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Unresolved Romantic Tension, but also written with love!!, warning: written hastily with only cursory editing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chshrkitten/pseuds/chshrkitten
Summary: “Waverly’s hair was just as soft as Maribeth thinks her lips would have been, but it isn’t the same thing.”There’s no fanfiction for this book, which is tragic, and it’s femslash February, so here we are!Prompt: “sunrise”





	Sunrise

It’s just after sunrise, and they’ve been up all night studying for today’s algebra test. Maribeth knows she has yesterday’s mascara smudged under her eyes, and the messy topknot she tied her hair up into hours ago is far from flattering. She hates all-nighters, even if she knows they are sometimes necessary. It takes ages for your complexion to recover.

Waverly, of course, looks perfect. Her long blonde ponytail is tied neatly at the nape of her neck. It flows down her back in one long stream, except for a few loose strands that brush her face, the long layered bangs that Maribeth said would look good on her. Everything looks good on her, Maribeth thinks, but some cuts are still more flattering than others. 

Maribeth wants to brush those strands away. They’re alone in Waverly’s bedroom, so she can, and she does. 

Waverly looks up just as Maribeth’s fingers brush her cheek. She hums a soft question. Her cold eyes blink precisely once, and that’s the only concession she makes to surprise at Maribeth’s gesture. Her perfect face stays expressionless and smooth.

Maribeth doesn’t like that very much.

“Just hold still for a second.” Maribeth leans forward, bridging the gap between Waverly’s personal space and her own. The kitchen chair she pulled up to Waverly’s desk hours ago creaks beneath her, but neither of them reacts. They are so close, but she doesn’t move. Instead, Maribeth waits—one, two, three seconds—fingertips still resting on Waverly’s left temple. 

At four seconds, Waverly leans in. It’s a short, jerky motion, and Waverly stops abruptly when her lips are still a bare half-inch from Maribeth’s. Her eyes are still cool, but through her sweatshirt Maribeth can feel that her skin is warm. Maribeth doesn’t remember when her hand came up to rest on Waverly’s waist, but it’s definitely there now. She can feel the fragile jut of Waverly’s hipbone resting beneath her palm. 

She could kiss her right now. Waverly is there, and she isn’t making the first move, but she isn’t moving away either, and Maribeth knows that she could kiss her. 

Maribeth also knows better than to do that. 

So it’s her left hand that moves instead, and she curls her fingers to tuck Waverly’s hair behind her ears. “There.” Her voice is breathier than it should be, but that can’t be helped. “Your ponytail was starting to fall out.”

Waverly nods, accepting the explanation or at least pretending to. 

Waverly’s hair was just as soft as Maribeth thinks her lips would have been, but it isn’t the same thing. 

Still, it’s morning, and pale sunlight is already starting to filter through the cracks in Waverly’s blinds, and they need to be ready for school in less than an hour if they want to make it to school in time to print off flyers for the student council food drive before first hour. It’s already sunrise, and Maribeth really doesn’t have the time for this right now.

But maybe someday she will.


End file.
